


Sundress Days

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, UST, Uncertain relationship, diana is briefly mentioned, season 6, the mention of carrot cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Somehow Mulder and Scully always run into trouble - even on Easter Sunday.





	Sundress Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlyTheInevitable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyTheInevitable/gifts).



> I was star-struck when I saw my Easter exchange fic was for @OnlyTheInevitable (who has made this challenge possible in the first place!) because I'm a huge fan. Hopefully, I've done the prompt some justice.
> 
> The prompt:  
> Scully can't swim and Mulder has to save her.

"All of this," Scully spews the words, water everywhere, "is your fault, Mulder." She is right. Of course she is right. For once, he'd even admit it. If he could speak. He can't. His mouth is half opened, mid-apology, totally stunned. Her dress, her beautiful sundress that he's marveled at all day, clings to her body. Oh, and how it clings. It highlights the contours of her body, the angry muscles, her… nipples.

No, Mulder can't speak. He tries not to stare and he can't do that either.

"All your fault!" she yells and stomps off, giving Mulder a clear view of her perfect behind. Yes, it's his fault. Is he sorry? He considers this as he follows her in small steps, slowly, definitely not coming to close. She's fuming and rightfully so. But is he sorry, is he really? Staring at the way her wet dress hugs her ass cheeks, he can't be sure.

  
How did they even get here? he wonders, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not at all.

*

2 hours earlier

Mulder watches the Scully house from inside his parked car, empty sunflower seed shells surrounding him like a protection spell, feeling like a stalker. The feeling is not urgent enough to put the car back into drive and go home. If pressed, he couldn’t say why he came here in the first place. It’s Easter Sunday. Much like Christmas, he has never much cared for the celebration, his parents using the holidays as an excuse to start drinking early in the day, nothing else. But Scully cares. She has told him about this year’s Easter shindings a couple of times, her voice always soft and full of longing when she did. He’s already hijacked the Scully Christmas a couple of months ago, stealing Scully away for a night in a haunted house, spending a quiet morning with her. A morning she was supposed to spend with her family. The least he could do now is leave her alone on Easter, let her have this day with her family.

And yet, here he is, staring at the house, at the small tree in the front yard that’s adorned with small, colorful Easter eggs, unable to go back home, be by himself.  
A car pulls up to the driveway and Mulder watches as a family of three gets out, matching beige clothes, matching big grins. The door to Mrs. Scully’s house opens and Mulder curses under his breath. He should have just left. Now, he can only hope that their reunion is distracting enough for them to ignore the fact that there’s a car parked across the street with a sad figure inside. If only he wasn’t the only car parked here.

Mulder isn’t in luck. The reunion is loud and joyful but he shouldn’t have underestimated his Scully. She comes into view late, too late for him to duck, and her eyes stay on his car a moment too long to be coincidental. And Mulder can’t take his eyes off her anyway. Scully, his very own partner, is wearing a sundress. In the six years they’ve worked together, he’s never seen her wear a sundress. It’s flowing all about her, clinging to all the right places, giving her a mystical air. This is Dana, not Scully. His breath catches. The blue of the dress is as clear as the ocean, as vibrant as her eyes.

He’s so fascinated by the sight that he doesn’t notice her walking over. Marching over is more like it. For a second, he considers speeding off, denying he was ever there, but then she’s knocking against his window and he opens it, slowly, turning to her and giving her his best, most charming smile.

“Happy Easter, Scully,” he says.

After six years, she’s immune to his charm. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood?” She’s not having any of it. Scully puts her hands on her hips and stares at him. Any minute now she is going to tell him to get out of the car and then she’s going to interrogate him. In her sundress.

“Please tell me this isn’t about a case that simply can’t wait. My brother Charlie and his family just got here and I haven’t seen him in forever, Mulder. I don’t care if you’ve found evidence that the Easter bunny is an alien in disguise.”

"No case," he promises with a smile, "no Easter bunny in disguise or on the loose."

"Then why are you here?" Her gaze is piercing. She demands an explanation and she's right. Who is he to just drop in on her family celebrations? He chews on his bottom lip, buying himself some more time. Not that he needs it. No matter what, he doesn't have a good excuse to be here. I missed you is in the top three. If he’s honest, it’s the only reason. The top three, the top ten, all of them.

"Is that Fox?" He's never been as glad as this very moment to see Mrs. Scully. Her face lights up as she comes closer. She clasps her hands together, smiling at him. "What a wonderful surprise! Dana, you said he had other plans." Now it's Scully who is at a loss for words. Mulder glances at her; had Mrs. Scully invited him here, for Easter? Scully hadn't mentioned anything. Mrs. Scully is chattering away happily but Mulder barely hears her, his mind stuck on the fact that Scully didn't want him here. Doesn't want him here. She’s blushing and chewing on her lip, clearly uncomfortable.

"You should really come inside, Fox. There's plenty of-"

"No," he and Scully say in unison, sharing a look.

"But you're already here – he's come all this way, Dana-" Mrs. Scully's eyes dart back and forth between them.

"He can't stay, mom. Right, Mulder?"

"Dana is right," he quickly says, his nods so vigorous that he fears he might injure himself.

"That's too bad." Mrs. Scully regards both of them with careful eyes; she knows they're lying. This woman has raised four children and has listened to her fair share of half-truths and excuses. Luckily for both of them, she decided not to press the matter further. Though Mulder wonders if she'll confront her daughter about it later. Once he's gone.

"Can I ask you a favor, Fox?"

His ears prick up and he nods. "Whatever you want me to do, Mrs. Scully."

"Charlie forgot to pick up the carrot cake at the bakery," she says with a sigh. "You know how he is," she continues, glancing at her daughter before she directs her eyes back to Mulder. "Would you be a dear and pick it up for me, Fox?"

"Sure, no problem. Just tell me where the-"

"Dana, please go with him. You know where the bakery is and I don't want Fox to get lost. Thank you, my darling."

"But mom-" Scully's protest is cut short when her mother gently pats her cheek, smiles and quickly crosses the street to disappear into the house, giving her daughter no chance to object. Without thinking, Mulder chuckles, softly shaking his head; Scully women don't accept no for an answer. His smile vanishes as Scully slams the passenger door shut. She sits there, decidedly not looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Mulder starts the car, glancing over at Scully. Her dress has hiked up in her anger and it's giving him a delicious view of her thighs. Trying to be a gentleman, he quickly looks away and clears his throat.

"Where to?" he croaks out and waits for Scully's directions. It turns out to be a short drive, though it feels much longer to Mulder. Neither of them talks. Resentment seeps out of Scully's pores, making the car seem smaller than it is, quieter, too. He considers turning on the A/C. When did it get so hot in here? That reminds him not to look at her, at her thighs, at the sundress. She's angry enough with him as it is. If he were to speak, what would he say? He'd apologize. That's really all he can do. But he fears his words have lost their punch; the more he apologizes, the less Scully believes him. He keeps his mouth shut.

"It's over there," Scully says, her voice bored. Mulder veers the car around, forgets to blink and parks on the deserted parking lot. Scully is out of the car before he is. He locks the car, looks around. It's Easter, but the air around here is silent in a way that makes him uneasy. Scully is a few steps ahead of him and her sundress swishes. He shakes his head; he needs to get a grip on himself. This isn't the first time he's seeing a beautiful woman in a dress. This isn't even the first time he's seeing Scully in a dress. Except it is. That sundress… the little bell over the bakery dings as Scully disappears, clearing his head for the moment.

The second he steps inside, he knows something is wrong. There are two other people here, two men. One small and chubby, the other a gangly teenager with a crooked grin. They're dressed in leather, a bad choice in this weather. Mulder doubts either of them cares. They're staring at Scully. His partner, even in her sundress, looks menacing. She reminds him of a predator, ready to pounce if necessary. The bakery is still. There's no sweet smell of baked goods, no warmth. The place smells rancid and full of desperation.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Scully reach for her hip. Exactly where her gun would be if she wasn't wearing that sundress. He doesn't have a gun with him either. There should be one in the car. These two guys won't let him go get it. From the looks of it, and wouldn’t that just be their luck, they’ve stumbled right into a robbery.

Fuck.

"We're here for the carrot cake," Mulder says, fully aware of how dumb it sounds. The men don't move, their eyes darting back and forth between him and Scully. If he could, he’d take his words back. He wonders if Scully is rolling her eyes or if she’s coming up with a plan. Mulder hopes it’s the latter. They need one.  
"Carrot cake?" the smaller of the two men whispers and Mulder thinks he detects a hint of Russian in his voice. His dirty blond hair falls into his eyes, so big and uneven that he looks cartoonish. He blinks rapidly as he regards his taller companion who reminds Mulder of Krycek. The same dark, oily hair. Much like the smaller guy, he has big round eyes. Everything about him seems too big; his nose, his mouth and his ears, too. Mulder briefly wonders how old he is, hopes he will grow into his features. "What's he talking about?"

"You better leave," the gangly one says.

"Not without the carrot cake."

"Listen, man. There's no cake here today, okay? No cake. You better leave now or you'll be sorry." It’s a robbery, he’s sure of it. How could they have stumbled into a robbery, on Easter, while picking up a cake for Mrs. Scully’s party? A laugh tickles in his throat, the situation simply ridiculous.

"Yeah. But you can leave the redhead." The chubby man smirks at Scully and Mulder sees her getting ready to attack him. Before she can he intervenes, steps in front of her, and towers over the small guy with the nervously blinking eyes.

"Who the fuck robs a bakery on Easter Sunday?” The words slip out – again – and Mulder doesn’t get an answer. The guy sneers at him and then, a second later, a crack somewhere, a short moment of pain, and darkness.

*

His head is throbbing so badly that he doesn’t want to open his eyes ever again. There’s brightness, there’s heat and there’s... water? Mulder peeks through one eye, hoping the pain won’t be as bad that way. A wave of nausea washes over him. For a moment he’s convinced that’s the reason he hears water. He closes his eye again, lies there, wonders. What happened? He thinks of carrot cake, thinks of Scully, sees a sundress. None of it makes sense.

Scully.

That’s her voice. He’s sure of it. Angry, too. Not at him, not this time. There’s laughter and he’s reminded of hyenas. Scully’s screams are cutting through the laughter. She’s yelling. For him. For help. Mulder forces himself to open his eyes. The nausea is overwhelming and it passes slowly.

“Scully,” he mumbles and tastes dirt. As his eyes focus, he finds himself on a patch of soft grass, his nose and mouth pressed into the ground.

“Mulder, help!” Scully. The water. He lifts up on his elbows with difficulty. Where is he? All around him are trees, swaying gently with the breeze. The air is full of Spring, tickling his nose. Birds are chirping joyfully; they’re the only noise, apart from the ripple of the water. He sees no water and where is Scully?

“Scully?”

“Mulder!” He scrambles to his feet, taking a few wobbly steps and leans against a tree to catch his breath. His head is throbbing in beat with his heart, blinding him. Trying to catch his breath, the memories trickle back into his mind. The bakery, that damn carrot cake. The two guys. One of them must have hit him with something. From the pain in his temple he thinks it must have been a baseball bat. He’s glad to be alive. But Scully, what did they do to Scully?

As he stumbles forward, the burble intensifies. Through a group of trees, he believes to see blue, clear water streaming lazily towards its destination. He makes his way through it and finds a river. It’s so peaceful that his first instinct is to take a deep breath. That is until he sees a head bob in the water.

“Scully!” She’s kicking at the water, trying to stay afloat, her head disappearing every few seconds. Why isn’t she swimming? Mulder’s mind is slow to catch up, can’t make sense of what he’s seeing.

“You need to,” she gulps water, comes up again, “to help me! I can’t swim!” The words, to Mulder, make no sense. She’s a Navy brat, a child of the water, and she just told him she can’t swim. This is a bad joke, Mulder thinks, as he walks into the water, not thinking. He swims towards her, her plea for help all that’s on his mind. When he’s almost reached her, he sees what the problem is: her hands are bound together. Two small, angry fists held together by a fat rope. Survival instinct kicks in and Mulder forgets that he’s in pain.

“Put your arms around me,” he says the words, spews them at her, and she doesn’t hesitate, kicks against his shin and thigh as she closes the distance. Her arms go around his neck, as if they were lovers, happily sharing a moment of intimacy. “Your legs too.”

“What?”

“Your legs. Put them around me. Don’t be shy.” He grins, in pain now, as he maneuvers them through the water as quickly and as safely as he can muster. They splash through it, moving against the current. Mulder’s breath is heavy, is short. He opens his mouth in need of air. Scully, quiet, clings to him, tightly squished against him. His lungs burn and his vision becomes blurry. The shore is too far away.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your Easter,” he apologizes, his words almost swallowed.

“Save your breath,” Scully says into his ear, making him shiver. “You can blame yourself when we’re safe on land.”

Scully’s words give him the strength he needs. With her solid body against him, holding on to him like a monkey, he swims against the water, a losing battle, and against all odds, wins it. As soon as the water is shallow enough, he stands up, walking the rest of the way. Scully weighs him down, her weight doubling without the help of the water, but he’s not going to let go. He collapses into the moist grass, finds himself back with his nose in the dirt, breathing heavily. Except this time Scully is here, still against him, way too quiet, way too tranquil.

“Scully?” he breathes against her cool skin. “How- what happened? How are you?” She doesn’t answer and he fears the worst, feels panic bubble up inside him.

“How am I?” she spits. She sits up, accidentally – or not – kneeing him in the crotch, and taking her hands from behind his neck. Her eyes are a clear blue, her hair, slowly drying, falls in cute ringlets around her rosy cheeks. If he calls her adorable now, he is certain of it, she will knock him out just like those gangsters did earlier.

“All of this is your fault, Mulder.” He agrees with her, almost tells her so, but she’s quick on her feet even with her hands bound. Water drips from everywhere on her body. If she’s aware that her dress is see-through, then she doesn’t care.

“All your fault!” Mulder watches her walk off. What else is he supposed to do? Yes, it’s his fault. He will apologize. As he gets up, he dusts off some dirt, but it’s no use. His head reminds him of earlier; though he still doesn’t know what’s happened. At least they’re both alive. He follows her, wherever she’s going, trying so hard not to stare.

Of course, he fails.

In his defense, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not at all. Only he is not sure Scully will listen to him, or care. His hands are in his pockets; they’re wet, full of sand. He’s going to throw these clothes away. As he thinks this, still keeping an eye on Scully, who seems in a hurry, he hopes she won’t do the same. He’ll gladly pay to have the sundress cleaned. As long as she’ll wear it again.

Scully slows down finally and he catches up with her, breathing quickly. “I’m-,” he starts but Scully turns around, almost crashing into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s not your fault. I just- how does this always happen?” She lets herself slip down to the ground and hugs herself.

“Are you cold?” he asks, sitting down beside her. “How are you? I know you’re angry with me and I get it, but I don’t even know what happened.”

“Will you help me?” She holds out her bound hands to him and he nods. The rope is thick, soaked with water, and his pruney, shaking fingers do a poor job of loosening it.

“Did they hurt you, Scully? Did they do anything to you?”

“No,” he lifts his head briefly to make sure she’s telling the truth; she is. “I don’t think they knew what to do with us. You were wrong anyway.”

“Huh?”

“It wasn’t a robbery. My mother’s favorite bakery is used for money laundering. Those two guys are Mrs. Bright’s sons. She’s such a sweet old lady.”

“I guess the apple fell far from the tree.”

“I don’t know how to explain any of this to my mother.”

“Just blame it on me.”

“I didn’t mean it, Mulder.” He remains quiet, working on freeing her. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced.”

“And then my mother would have sent me alone to the bakery.” The rope comes free and Mulder grabs Scully’s wrists, gently rubbing them, feeling the soft thrum of her pulse under his fingertips. He doesn’t want to think about it. The things they might have done to her had she been alone there. “You took the blow for me.” Her voice is so gentle that he needs to look at her. She touches a finger to his temple, right where they hit him earlier.

This time he can’t stop himself. “You’re so beautiful, Scully.”

“I almost drowned.”

“Doesn’t change the facts. I love your hair like this.” He lets go of her wrist and touches a single lock of hair. It curls around his finger and he smiles. “It fits you.”

“How is your head?”

“I’m not saying it because I have a concussion, Scully.”

“I believe you, Mulder,” she touches his temple again and it throbs. “But how does it feel? You were passed out for a while. We should get you checked out. We need to go to the police.”

“First we need to get back to civilization.” Mulder looks around; he has no idea where they are. He’s lost his phone somewhere in the water or maybe they took it from him. It’s only the two of them out here. He sees Scully shiver and realizes that they need to get into dry, warm clothes as soon as possible.

“I’ll follow your lead.”

Neither of them knows where they’re going. Mulder wonders what they look like if anyone were to see them now. There’s no one else here, though, and the point is moot. “I think I hear a car,” Mulder says, stopping.

“I think you’re hallucinating.” Scully keeps walking and Mulder, after a moment, follows.

“I know this isn’t the Easter you’ve wanted, Scully. I promise I will stay away next time.”

“Why did you show up at my mom’s, anyway?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she invited me?”

She refuses to look at him. “I asked first.”

“I wanted to see you. I missed you. I wanted to make sure you were having fun. Now, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to spare you having to be around my brother.”

“Is that the truth, Scully?” He stops walking and so does she. Her dress has dried, is no longer clinging to her.

“Yes, it’s the truth. I never know with you. You and all your... it doesn’t matter. You can stay now. I’m not sending you away again, all right?” He grabs her arm.

“It’s not all right. What do you mean, me and all my – all my what?”

“Just forget it.”

“I’m sick of always forgetting! We’re not going to talk about this again either, are we? Ignoring that you almost drowned, that we were almost killed for nothing! And I haven’t even told you how much I love seeing you in that damn sundress. Let’s just get out of here, get back. I’ll get in my car and I’ll leave you alone.”

“It’s not what I want, Mulder.” Scully falls into step beside him. “With everything that has happened this year, I just needed some time.”

“Away from me.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Diana, Mulder. You told me not to make it personal. You-”

“I also told you I love you.” His voice is sharp and sounds loud here devoid of clamor, devoid of everything. They’re stuck together here, need each other to make it back home. “I told you how much you mean to me. Hell, Scully, I wanted to kiss you.”

“You were on heavy pain medication when you said that.”

“I wasn’t.” He puts his face close to hers. “You know that. And what about the hallway?”

“That was...,” she trails off, her eyes straying away from his face, searching for a way out, a way to avoid this conversation once again. They never mentioned it. Mulder tried once or twice, with an innuendo, testing the waters. He’s been trying, in his own way. And now, he realizes, defeated, he just hasn't taken the hint. Scully doesn't want more. This is enough for her. Co-workers, friends – but not too close. She doesn't want him to be a part of her sundress days. Those are reserved for the other people in her life. She’s Scully to him, always. Dana doesn’t want him in her life, not in that way.

"I get it. You're right. Let's just forget it. I'm sorry I ruined your Easter. I will apologize to your family and then I'll just- hey, Scully?"

"Hm?"

"Look." Her eyes follow his outstretched arm where, barely visible through the trees, the sun highlights the glittering asphalt of a road. "We've made it."  
They're quiet while they wait for a car, hoping anyone will pick them up in their disheveled state. Scully looks like she's been to a picnic, a sleepy fairy lost in the woods. His own clothes are smeared with dirt, his pants torn in one place and irritating his skin. With a sigh that signals surrender, Scully sits at the side of the road, trying to straighten her sundress. After a moment – Mulder not yet ready to give in, to give up – he joins her.

"There are seashells on your dress," he says, his hand reaching out, but stopping before he can touch the fabric. Earlier, that short moment when he held her and touched her back, he felt it against his skin. How soft it was, both the fabric and her skin.

"Yes," she replies, her voice small. "That's why I picked it."

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you." She draws her knees closer to her chest and rests her head on them. "The reason I didn't tell you about my mom's invitation… I wasn't sure if you wanted to come and I couldn't bear a possible rejection. That's part of the reason why I'm so angry with you."

"Part of the reason?" He inches closer to her, their thighs touching. She doesn't move away even if she doesn't look at him.

"You told me that you… what you told me and then you go off with Diana, Mulder. You didn't even care what I had to say."

"I always care what-," he interrupts her but shuts up the second she turns to him. Her eyes are devoid of tears, but there's a sadness there that he hasn't seen before. Or maybe he has and hasn't acknowledged it to himself, uncertain of its meaning.

"You didn't tell me about Karen Berquist either. So what am I supposed to believe, Mulder? I don't know where I- is that a car?" She jumps up, her unfinished sentence in the air, as she flags down the car. Mulder, however, doesn't move, watching her, his mind running circles around what she was about to say.

The car stops and their luck must be turning around; it's a police officer on his way home from work. Mulder gets in the back, Scully in the front. He half listens to their conversation about the Bright boys who were captured today, the money laundering business exposed.

"You missed the big spectacle," Officer Harrison says, grinning at Scully, who turns to him, smiling softly, seemingly proud. He can't muster the strength to smile back.

*

They're all waiting for them in front of the house, worried expressions on their faces. Scully runs to her mother who engulfs her in a tight embrace. Unsure where to look or go, feeling too many unfamiliar eyes on him, Mulder stands back with his hands buried in his pockets.

"Fox, come over here," Mrs. Scully waves him over, not letting go of her daughter. "You poor souls. It's all my fault."

"It's not, mom," her daughter assures her. "And we're fine. Right, Mulder?" Scully pleads with him to go along, to play it down, at least for the moment. The throbbing in his head is no longer as persistent, just a dull noise.

"Right. We were lucky."

"Now come in. We've got food and you need clean clothes. Come on. Bill, Charlie, fetch Fox some dry clothes!" Mulder has never heard or seen Mrs. Scully bark out commands. No matter what her sons think about him, they don't argue and walk back inside, leaving him, Scully and her mother alone.

"You really are fine?" she asks, much softer this time, staring at them both. Tears pool in her eyes.

"We are. Just hungry and in need of dry clothes," Scully promises, kissing her mother's cheek. "Go on inside, we'll be right there." There's reluctance in the older Scully woman, but she senses that they need another moment alone. And they need it here, now. Inside there's a whole family waiting, wanting to hear the story of the Easter Sunday cake run gone wrong.

That damn cake.

"I'm sorry we didn't get that carrot cake, Mrs. Scully."

"Oh Fox," she chuckles, patting his cheek. "You're a funny one, aren't you?" She leaves them be and it's just the two of them out here. It's only been a couple of hours since he's sat in his car, watching, wondering. Yet it feels like half a lifetime ago.

"You're politely trying to ask me to leave, right?" He accentuates his question with a smile that he's certain won't reach his eyes.

"Mulder, no. No, that's not it at all. I was just – earlier when we were talking… I'd like to do more of that."

"Talking?" She nods.

"We do that all the time. I remember you telling me to shut up."

"Not about work, about us. About…," she sighs in frustration; she's as bad as this as he is. He takes her hand in his, his fingers playing with hers.

"What were you going to say earlier? When the car showed up? You don't know where – where what, Scully?"

"Where I belong," she finishes. "I don't know where I belong when it comes to you and me, to this."

"By my side. Like I belong to yours."

"That might be the cheesiest thing you've ever said." But she's smiling and so is he.

"It's the truth."

"So we'll talk more in the future?" He nods. "And maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"We could try that hallway thing again."

"Does it have to be in a hallway?" He leans closer to her, very aware that anyone could be watching from the house, from across the street. Mulder finds that he doesn't care. This isn't what he came here for. He had a hunch, a longing; he just wanted to be around Scully. Now he is. She's all around him. Her wild hair framing her face, her lips slightly parted as if in anticipation.

"No," she whispers and he thinks he can feel her lips against his already; a phantom need. "What were you thinking?"

"How about your mother's porch?" She giggles, leans in, and then, surprising him, kisses his cheek.

"Hmm, maybe. Or maybe you can come up with a better idea." She throws him a look and goes inside, her sundress swaying softly, and Mulder watches, watches, and smiles. He follows her, closes the door behind him.

Maybe later he will get lucky. For now, he decides to let the rest of the day unfold.


End file.
